Leslie Withers

,@lestiwitherindespair

Something touched him ! At least…he thought something did. He looked at his arm and could have sworn he saw a hand print but maybe he dreamed it.. or it was a violent shiver. Or in Leslie’s case an old memory. Who can really tell when it comes to him ? He doesn’t really know himself.nodd

“Sorry. Sorry sorry sorry.” He says when he notices Emil jump.

“T-thank you.” He says with a smile and looks to the brain. The brain looks familiar…well obviously everyone has a brain but something about it…he doesn’t know why but it gives him a…feeling hes seen it in a different setting.

He didn’t realize he was starting at the brain intently and with a look until someone touched his shoulder. He flinches at the touch

“Of course.” Emil goes with a smile. He’s fidgeting with the outline of the brain with a black crayon, trying to prevent him from ruining the rest of it with needless doodles but still not knowing what else he’d want to draw. He wasn’t necessarily the most creative.

He did–however–slide another piece of paper in front of Leslie going “Feel free to draw something else! And maybe /you/ could give me an idea of what I should draw next, before I just start drawing icebergs or something.” he laughed at his own joke, realising that present company wouldn’t necessarily get the Freud reference he had just made. But as he talked he also realised that Leslie was more intently looking at the diagram he had just made than the conversation he was attempting to have.

Sebastian: *punches the lock off like a maniac*

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“I-I hope…” He says and when hes done drawing he puts the crayons down. He was going to show the art work to his parents…but he would need to do a new one if he was to show them. The beach scene he wanted looks nothing like a beach and more like a jumbled mess, which really would describe how Leslie feels, a jumbled mess.

“I-It was supposed to be a beach…t-the colours all wanted t-to come out and I couldn’t find good spots for them He says as he looks down at it then looks to him. “D-do you like it ?”

Emil gives a sad smile at that reply but just keeps organising his brain picture with colour codes and fancy words. Apparently Emil couldn’t just draw a dog or a flower, no he had to go and draw a diagram that looks like it could be straight from a textbook. It occupied his mind in the same way, however, so that was something.

“D-Dr. Jimenez keeps t-trying to k-keep me a-away from my parents.” Leslie says, the colors turning from bright colors to more dark and sad colours.

“H-he keeps saying t-that t-they can’t ever see me again.” The young whitehaired patient says. All he wants is to see his family again, but he doesn’t understand they’re dead. He still thinks there at home waiting for him.

“I m-miss my mom and dad. They must be worried. .” He says as he’s beach drawing turned dark at the thought. Maybe Emil can put in a good word for Leslie and help him leave ? Or maybe at least be a good distraction from Dr. Jimenez

“Dr. Jimenez?” Emil says with some confusion. That was… the lead psychologist right? The one that had brought them here in the first place? It takes him a moment to remember that the patients don’t always see things in the same light or the same logic as those who more mentally stable. It is quite possible, by the sound of things, that Leslie’s parents dumped him here and wanted nothing else to do with him. That kind of feeling made Emil’s heart hurt and he just gives the patient a sweet smile. “I’m sure they miss you too.” he says, trying to be helpful. He already planned to ask the Doctor about Leslie’s conditions, he was now also going to ask about Leslie’s past as well.

“M-maybe when I l-leave I can show you h-her. She’s a n-nice woman.” He says. Poor kid still believes his parents are alive even when he saw them…well saw them die. No one knows if he’s just deeply in denial that he believes if or if he truly believes they are alive.

Leslie starts humming. Its what he calls his drawing music. Since they won’t let him to listen to music because of the other patients he made up his own little music. It sounds as if it’s a classical piece but he insists he made it up. Funny thing is it changes so it’s never one humming song each day.

When Emil comes back he’s still humming as he looks to the crayons. He takes a blue crayon, then a green crayon, then a red one and finally a yellow one and he starts drawing.

He starts drawing a blue sky, but it’s in sync with his humming so when he stops the coloruing stops and when he hums again he changes the colour because that’s what he can hear. So his sunny day at the beach is going to be a mix match of colors.

At first Emil was smiling when Leslie mentioned meeting his mom. But he slowly remembered this was a long term facility and that most of the patients here… well they didn’t really go home now did they? “That does sound lovely, Leslie.” Emil goes, trying to put the smile back up that fell a bit from his face. “Maybe the next time she visits you?” he tried, knowing better than to remind Leslie he was unlikely to get out of here.

Ironically, Emil was a classical music fan. So when he heard Leslie humming a tune, he swore that the tune sounded familiar. He smiles at him though, unable to remember what he thinks it is. The young psychology major takes his own piece of paper and a few crayons, pausing to think of something to draw. He hadn’t done this in /years/ and now faced with the task of doing it to be engaged…

"H-he keeps saying t-that t-they can't ever see me again." The young whitehaired patient says. All he wants is to see his family again, but he doesn't understand they're dead. He still thinks there at home waiting for him.

Sebastian stumbled back, his hands securing around him protectively as his mind processed what ever was happening. He gazed down at Leslie and tried to coax him to look up. “Woah woah, Leslie. Shh, buddy hey. What’s the matter?”, Sebastian took his shoulders and knelt down, “Leslie look at me, are you okay? What’s going on?”.

“So what did these thugs look like huh? Were they your age?”, he came back over and handed him the make-shift ice pack.

He pulled him in a warm, safe embrace as him soothingly hummed into his hair.

He claps his hands together and smirks as he said, “alright, first the disclaimer.

Know, most fights can be avoided. By just walking away,

“M-mom says a-a unique name f-fits a unique kid.” He says with a small shrug. He never minded it; names aren’t really important…but he can remember them easily.

He gives a small giggle at being right. “Right right right.” Hsnds clasp together in excitement as he stands up. “Y-yes I would love to draw with you.” He can draw a pretty picture for his mom and dad and when he leaves he can show it to them…if only he can leave, but in his head he can leave as soon as he does everything he’s told.

The fact that Leslie brought up his mother threw Emil for a second. His face probably showed the blinking in confusion–he wasn’t experienced enough to mask it well–but he recovered quickly giving a warm smile once more. “Well I agree with your mom!” was his response. Curiosity still gripped at him. They had to be about the same age, but Leslie’s response was that of a younger child… He wondered if he was mentally regressed to that age? But his mannerisms and his ability to hold a conversation spoke of someone with higher intellectual level. It wasn’t like he could honestly ask questions about it… he’d follow up with a doctor later.

Leslie starts humming. Its what he calls his drawing music. Since they won't let him to listen to music because of the other patients he made up his own little music. It sounds as if it's a classical piece but he insists he made it up. Funny thing is it changes so it's never one humming song each day.

When Emil comes back he's still humming as he looks to the crayons. He takes a blue crayon, then a green crayon, then a red one and finally a yellow one and he starts drawing.

Sebastian stumbled back, his hands securing around him protectively as his mind processed what ever was happening. He gazed down at Leslie and tried to coax him to look up. “Woah woah, Leslie. Shh, buddy hey. What’s the matter?”, Sebastian took his shoulders and knelt down, “Leslie look at me, are you okay? What’s going on?”.

“So what did these thugs look like huh? Were they your age?”, he came back over and handed him the make-shift ice pack.

He pulled him in a warm, safe embrace as him soothingly hummed into his hair.

He claps his hands together and smirks as he said, “alright, first the disclaimer.

Know, most fights can be avoided. By just walking away,